Recipe Friday: Almost Solitude

I am a social person but I like to start my day alone. I don't need much time. Just about an hour. I want to do my devotion and check my email and the weather. Then I want to read while I have a little bit of of breakfast, a Diet Mountain Dew, and coffee. The Guy understands this, but there wasn't one thing he could do about it while we were in Scotland.

I genuinely enjoy the people I went to Scotland with. If that was not the case, either they would not have been there or I would not. One should be careful with whom they choose as travel companions. There are people I dearly love, who I would not travel with. We would not come back friends. I digress. That's another blog and one probably worth writing.

Anyway, starting the day with six other people was wearing on me and wearing on me bad. It wasn't their fault. It was all on me. Then we arrived in the precious little town of Moffatt in the south border region. We would be there for four days because it is the perfect place to day trip from. The hotel where we stayed was old style European and no one could have complained about the breakfast they served--there were all the usual suspects like haggis, porridge, eggs, bacon and the like, plus smoked salmon and eggs, baked kipper and eggs, and every fruit and cereal known to man. At least the UK man.

But I discovered a  bakery next door, that sold pasty and sausage rolls. Best of all, I could buy a sausage roll and sit on a park bench in a beautiful little courtyard and watch people while I ate. Alone. Well, almost alone. There was the sausage roll.

When I got home, I felt the need to recreate that sausage roll. I can't start my day with them every day, or really even any days, because I am not going to hike around all day looking at stuff like I do when I travel. But they are yummy and worth the splurge on a special day. You can also cut them into smaller pieces and serve as appetizers. They aren't nearly as much trouble as they look because of Pepperidge Farm frozen puff pastry.

.

Sausage Rolls

• 1 lb. Breakfast sausage (I used original. I might try hot next time.)
• 1 small onions, grated
• ¾ cup fresh breadcrumbs
• 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
•  teaspoon lemon juice
• 1 eggs, beaten
• plain flour
• 2 boxes of frozen puff pastry, thawed in accordance with manufacturer's instructions
• 1 egg, beaten and to glaze. 

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
2. Mix together first 6 ingredients.
3. Divide each sheet of pastry into three strips.
4. Take a ball of meat—it will be soft—and roll it in the flour to make it easier to work with. Roll into a cylinder and place in the middle of a strip of pasty. Seal pastry with a bit of egg.
5. Repeat until you run out of one thing or the other.*
6. Place on baking sheet. Brush rolls with egg. Bake for fifteen minutes.

* The dough and meat might come out right for you. If it does, let me know and I will send you a pony. I had more dough than meat, so I put some jam in my remaining strips. Don't do that. It will run out and make a mess on your baking sheet. This is the first time in my life that the parchment did not matter. Next time, I would extra sprinkle pastry with Parmesan cheese and sesame seed. That might not work out either but it won't make a mess.

On The Rocks with Salt and Conversation Please

Back before we took on the boys at Trivia Night (me and the Margarita Mamas), we had a lively discussion amongst ourselves about the necessity of women’s underthings.   Women and their brassieres!  Lordy mercy what a conversation to have in a small town restaurant over too many margaritas!  It made me feel like I was in a Jill Shalvis story in Lucky Harbor!  

So le’me tellya!  I learned a lot that night.  What, you ask?  Huh!  Did you know that some women wear more than one bra thinking that that gives them more support?  I had no idea!  I mean, yes, I do have my own personal structural engineer employed to build me the tightest constraint for boobages known to mankind.  But geeze!  I only wear one.  I couldn’t possible breathe with two on.  Two.  Really?  I told Twinkle Toes we need to take her shopping and get her her own structural engineer, too!  She just waved her arms in the air, free spirit that she is and ordered another round!  Ricardooooo….oooo!

Then Southern Belle.  She told us all about having her boobages accosted at the local lingerie store.  She said she walked into the store and straightway a young woman who’d just recently started wearing her own training bra marched right up to SB and started feeling her up with a tape measure in hand.   Now I have to say, I’m glad that young girl was not me.  Polite and sweet as SB can be, the woman can hurt you with just her eyeballs!  I’m surprised she didn’t take that girl to the mat!  So what happened in the end?  SB got the best bra she’s ever had.  Said that girl did her a service that day and she bought them out of the bra that fit.  Success?  Yes.  Hey Ricardo…..can we get another, please?

Now Damn Yankee, for some reason, I just can’t remember what she threw into the mix.  I must’ve been under Mr T. Quilla’s spell at that point?  Nah.  Did she evade the topic?  You bet your sweet margaritas she did!   Ricardo…I think my glass has a hole in it.  DY quirks and eyebrow up as high as it’ll go and taps the side of her glass.  Another?  

Now I have to confess.  I did pipe up at this point and give my two cents worth, structural engineer retainer that I am.  And honey chile, I got down and dirty and brought out the big guns.  Yes I did.  The one time, all time fixit for the boobages.  You know the one…..the Big  Lift and Tuck!  You heard me.  With the Big Lift and Tuck I would never wear a bra again.  Wow!  How liberating would that be?  And besides, Mary Jo Shively (Annie Potts) from Designing women discovered that big boobages are power.  But think of it.  Big boobages that are where they belong have got to be the mother of all power!  Yes indeedy!  That right there is Lushy Lulu's idea of brassiere perfection.  The Big Lift and Tuck!  

How about you?  Would you hire an engineer to build you a boobages contraption?   

What's your favorite Margarita?  

Original Lime

Strawberry

Watermelon

Mango 

Hottie Then and A Hottie Now!

Today I want to talk with y'all about the characters that we grew up with. Some of you know, I LOVE Jimmy Smits!  When I was a young girl watching L.A. Law,  he was the strong handsome crusader for lost causes.  As a girl growing up in the South let me tell you that I knew all about Lost Causes.  After all, I had been to the battlefield at Shiloh 500 times before I was twelve, but that is another blog altogether.  Back to Jimmy. I thought his character Victor Sifuentes, was the sexiest thing that I had ever seen.



Of course, back then I hadn't seen much.  Flash forward to this millennium, and I still think he is one of the hottest things that I have ever seen.  I have watched him as Detective Bobby Simone in Law and Order, a Senators from the far reaches of the Galaxies in Star Wars II and and III, and from Texas in The West Wing. He has has been sexy in every role.  I was stunned to see him in the this year's opening episode of Sons of Anarchy in his full glorious naked splendor. It was a view from behind but that was a gracious plenty for me.

I think that much of his continued appeal is because that I feel that  Jimmy Smits has continued to grow up with me. 

Is there a character in a book or movie that you admired when you were younger that you still find appealing?







Change Is a Devilish Wench

We've got a lot of road work going on where I live.  Turn lanes are being added.  Work crews are out digging around ditches in the median and clearing out drains.  Brand new asphalt has been poured on the roads and the drive to and from work, aside from the traffic, is a smoother affair.  Good changes.  Needed changes.  And yet changes like these take time.

I hate change. 

My office at work is being renovated.  And though the plan is to give the small space a cozier atmosphere, free of clutter, I have my shelves, my binders and I don't want that to change.  I liked things the way they were.  Everything was at my fingertips.  I didn't need or ask for this mania.  But life is change.  Life changes from one second to the next, with or without our permission.   

I fight change as long as I can and then, only because I have no other choice, I accept things I cannot change... like change.  I've had loads of experience doing this growing up, moving from one Army post to the next, leaving friends behind, entering new schools, and on and on until I finally found myself entering my own children in new schools and so on and so on.  Change is an devilish wench, albeit a necessary evil.  Get ye gone!

And yet from the day we're born, to the day we die, we're changing.  Without change, we cannot grow.  Without digging out the drains and cleaning out ditches in the median, the road ahead of us will flood.  It will be murky, rocky and steep.

Viewing the changes I see on the highway, I'm reminded of my manuscript, the avenues of plot laid out with smooth asphalt S curves or W plots, satisfying intersections of motivation and conflict veering off with turn lanes/subplots.  The detours we face in revisions and edits, road blocks/walls, highways and byways pose a need for change before achieving that ultimate polish that sets a manuscript apart.  Scenes cut.  Secondary characters axed.  All in the name of improvement, marketability, professionalism.  Good changes.  Needed changes.

Fall is here.  Winter is coming.  And in the face of change, I'm bucking like an unbroken Mustang.  Change is good.  Sometimes change is needed.  But oh I'd sure like to give that devilish wench hell in the meantime.

Are you facing any changes?  How do you handle change?   

Katherine Bone
DUKE BY DAY, ROGUE BY NIGHT 10/29 Crimson Romance
www.katherinebone.com

Water, Water Everywhere and Not a Drop to Flush

Beach Trip 2012

Last week I went to the beach with the same women I go to the beach with every year. Mostly we lounge. If there is an adventure it is seldom of our own making.

I had to change someone's blog name this year. Back row, dead middle. That's Sam and E's Mom. You know her from this blog. She thought she was going through early menopause when E was 11. It turned out to be Sam. But forever and furthermore (or until I decide to change it again), her blog name will be The Terminator. She looks sweet, doesn't she? She is. But she means business.

Here's what happened. It was Friday night, our third night there. We had been to the Pink Pony Pub, where we had eaten dinner and Art Girl (middle row, far left) had done a little Karaoke. (Really. She sounded just like Cher. It was amazing.)

Anyway, we got back to our home away from home and we didn't have any water. I didn't really care much. We had bottled water to drink. I'd already had a shower. And it was after midnight, so I was going to bed soon. I figured we'd have water when we woke up.

Now Art Girl (who is also The Baby of us)  was very concerned and started making calls. I don't know who she called.

Next morning. I got up. We still didn't have water. Art Girl was on the phone. I assume she had not been on the phone all night, but was on the phone again, but I don't know for sure. I still wasn't alarmed. Bottled water. Shower the night before.Blah, blah. Someone had used bottled water to make coffee. I was was not concerned about flushing the commode because I was determined  not to until we had water again. I am willful.

Art Girl was saying, "And hour ago? I understand. We appreciate that you sent someone over so early to fix it. Thank you."

Then, it seems Sam and E's Mom had caught them in a lie. She said, "Give me that phone." Art Girl handed it over.

Then The Terminator was born because the next thing out of that mouth was, "Now, you listen here to me. I am looking out the widow right now and there is no one out there. No truck. No workers. And this morning wasn't good enough anyway. This has been going on since last night and there should have been somebody here last night. There are eleven women in the house and none of us are happy. We are getting more unhappy by the minute. I need to see a truck."

And it was like in a movie. The truck pulled up. "Yeah. Okay. I'm going outside." And she did. Meanwhile a couple of people who were not as willful as I am, had started hauling buckets down to the ocean to bring water up to the one of the five bathrooms.

Heart Breaker, Soul Shaker and I were lounged out on the sofas in our pajamas watching Kirk Herbstreet on College Game Day.

"Do you reckon it's okay to put salt water in a toilet?" I asked.

"Probably not," Heart Breaker, Soul Shaker said. Then we went back to listening to score predictions.

We were not worried. The Terminator wasn't going to let up until water flowed and commodes flushed. And it wasn't long.

I can be a terminator if I have to, but it's nice to sometimes be the one who gets to just ride it out.

In the face of such things, are you a terminator or do you just ride it out?

Recipe Friday: How the Cookie Crumbles

I like to bake cookies and I am pretty good at it. Of course, who's not? It's not hard. I have kept Precious Angel supplied ever since he's had teeth. Between his mother and me, we saw to it that he became a regular little food snob early on. Sushi, Thai, Middle Eastern. Indian. He would eat anything and it had better be high quality too.

Or so I thought.

Back to the cookies. I made sure he didn't turn his nose up at anything but chocolate chip, the way some kids do. He loved them all--cherry almond bars with a shortbread crust, peanut butter flavored with real maple syrup (grade B if I could find it), oatmeal with brandy and dried cranberries, coffee brownies with butterscotch chips. For special times I made tiny turnovers of cheddar cheese pastry filled with homemade date pecan jam. Even my sugar cookies were rolled in turbinado sugar.

So last Christmas Nestle came out with some special edition chocolate mint chips. I don't like chocolate mint much, but The Guy and Precious Angel do, so I bought a whole sackful. Then I didn't know what to do with them. The recipe on the back of the bag was for candy and I didn't want to do that. If you want chocolate mint candy, the stores are full of Andee's Mints. So I mentioned my plight to Katherine Bone one day because true friends talk about  boring things. She suggested that I get a chocolate cake mix and make cookies from it, as she had done with her kids when they were small. I did. Whipped up the cookies, disseminated them, and forgot about it.

Fast forward several months. Precious Angel is away at school wanting a care package--cheese straws and cookies. What kind of cookies you ask. My special brownies that are so moist becasue they are made with brown sugar? No. Maybe the pecan coconut ones that are perfectly toasty and crisp? Oh, no. And not the white chocolate raspberry bars either.

He said, "Can I have those awesome chocolate mint things?!?"

At least they are easy. I used chocolate fudge mix and, of course, the mint chips. I added some vanilla because I just had to. I don't think it mattered. I also made mine big and baked them 14 minutes.

Cake Mix Cookies

Ingredients

• 1 box any flavor cake mix
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup oil

Instructions

1. Add 1/2 cup oil and two eggs to one box of cake mix. Add chips, nuts, and flavorings if desired.

2. Drop by teaspoonfuls on a cookie sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 10-12 minutes.

 

Majestic Movies, popcorn please?

I’m not a movie junkie.  I may have been once?  But nowadays or for the pastadays, I’ve been more about taking care of life than enjoying life.  It comes with motherhood, I guess. 

Anyway, I’ve had a hard time sleeping lately with the bug du jour and found myself surfing the movie titles on Netflix’s instant view options.  I happened across a great one that got my attention.  The Majestic, with Jim Carey.  Hmm.  Looked interesting enough.  I like Jim Carey just fine, too.  I must’ve missed this one when it came out around Veezer’s birthdate.  So I watch it.  

It was not your usual JC fare.  No loose lip displays, no dumbass idiocies.  Nope.  This was serious life in this here movie.  And I loved every scene, every filmed minute.  It’s a beautiful movie, a moving story.  It’s a boy-meets-girl and it has a happy ending, too.  My favorite!  And I should know.  I’ve watched it three times in three days.  And it’s loooong!  Like pushing 3 hours long.  

So back in my movie junkie days (BC—before children), I loved old movies and popcorn.  I still try to watch It’s a Wonderful Life every year at Christmastime.  “What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary.”   Aww…melts my pea-pickin’ heart every time! 

 Mr. Smith goes to Washington is another favorite.  Love me some Jimmy Stewart!  Yes I do.  But this Jim Carey title, The Majestic, it has a similar something-or-other about it as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.  It’s that passion, that drive to make a change and to actually accomplish it.  In The Majestic, it’s the point of realizing each of us has a duty, an obligation, and a payment for the freedoms we enjoy.  There ain’t nothin’ for free sugar, not even freedom.  

I love this kind of profound visual example in the movies.  The great principles of life set to music and action, right there in our face to see the reality and grandeur of it all.  Well and there’re those famous lip movements, too!  All-righty then!

Are you a movie junkie?  What are your favorites, past or present?  Can you move your lips like Jim Carey?  Would you do it in front of a camera for all the world to see?  : D

Things That Make Me Go....Hmmmmm

I am excited to be back  under the tulip tree after some time off from having a regular weekly day.  I am going to be blogging on Wednesdays for a while.  I see this as a serendipitous journey that will surely take us in many adventurous  directions.

Today I would like for us to explore the questions that make us go....Hmmmm?   

Lately I have been pondering motorcycles and motorcycle riders, probably because I watch Sons of Anarchy.   Last week in the new season opener. one of the characters was pondering about how when he went fast enough the other things in his head just faded away.  I can see that as a big plus.  I think we all have days where we wish we could reduce the buzz in our heads to just the roar of wind.  Oh, and a very naked Jimmy Smits in his first appearance on the show was a SERIOUS bonus!

Anyone who has recently been on a dating site can tell you that motorcycles seem to be all the rage.  Almost every male profile has a picture of a man beside or on a motorcycle.  I just don't get this one. I want to know that a man can afford a car.

Anyway, back to motorcycles. They seem to reveal sides of people that you just don't expect. I know another teacher who has her own very spiffy looking Harley Davidson. (For those who don't know that's a really hot  top of the line cycle.) A solid upstanding member of my church, who is an insurance agent, drives what can only be described as a crotch rocket. (This is one of those really fast slick looking bikes.) Probably the most puzzling match I know is my friend, Bullrider, who rides a scooter--not any sort of ramped up hot ride but a regular old scooter.  What the heck?

All this makes me go Hmmmm.... but the King of the Hmmmm... inspiring motorcycle questions is this:

Why don't you ever see motorcycles in a drive thru?  Is it because they don't have cup holders?

What question makes you go, hmmmm?

                                                                                                                                      

                                                                                 

Rain and The Mothman Prophesies

As I was driving through the rain, I was struck by the beauty light plays as it reflects off the darkness streaking across a wet road.  Of course, there is a point where wet roads mesmerize drivers and that's never a good thing.  But oh, what a fabulous hypnotic spell woven, like a Monet painting, sheer gloss, motions of light and color dancing across the concrete canvas.  It may be harder to drive on a shiny wet road, but it sure is a pretty spectacle to behold.

 

And speaking of spectacles, it was while I was driving down this phenomenal road that I spied a dark something on my driver's side window.  ACK!  A quick glance proved it was a bug, a very large brown bug.  Thankfully, I kept my cool and rolled down my window in the pouring rain to get that moth-like creature to fly out of sight and out of the car.  Reminded me of that movie, The Mothman Prophesies with Richard Gere.  (Shiver me timbers!)

 

This sighting probably wouldn't have bothered me so much if my nerves weren't already frayed.  LTC's having back problems.  He's been hurting for over a week and he's not one to ever complain, even at his worst.  I'm hoping it's not a disc problem.  Future visits to the chiropractor will reveal more.  Meanwhile, I'm recovering from a serious infection that had me shivering for days.  (Thank you, antibiotics!  I adore you.  Just sayin...)  And there've been various family issues to contend with lately, but I won't go into them now because they're personal and would take up too much space.  ;)

 

My point today is this, little things like dragonflies and colorful wet roads stand out at times like this, when we're overly tired, straped thin, or worried.  Sometimes an appreciation for the simple can only take place when the mind is preoccupied.  But it's at those times, the times when life may seem to be near the breaking point, that the simple manifests into something more meaningful and the memory is implanted forever.

 

I'm having experiences like that these days.  And though I balk at change, I'm enjoying the rain.  The cleansing steady drizzle upon my window panes.  The constant flow of water shedding off my gutters.  I sit transfixed watching raindrops pound the pavement on the street.  And occasionally, I get to enjoy the myriad reflections displayed on a road showered with green, red and yellow light. 

 

I'm stopping to pay attention.  Life wants me to take a second look.  What have you looked at twice lately?

Katherine Bone
DUKE BY DAY, ROGUE BY NIGHT 10/29/12 Crimson Romance
www.katherinebone.com

Go With the Flow or No?

Technology is wonderful Really. I have written books on a Smith Corona typewriter, all the while making a list of facts that had to be checked by going to the public library. (Those books are in typing paper boxes, safely tucked away where no one will ever have to see them. But that's another blog.)

Thank goodness those days are gone. But with the good comes the bad—though I am beginning to question whether what I think is bad, really is. I know that just because something annoys me, doesn’t make it wrong. For instance, I don't like it when people put their hand to their ear like a telephone receiver when they are recounting a phone conversation, but that doesn’t mean that is an ill mannered thing to do. It just means it's a pet peeve of mine and mine to deal with.

Okay, I just realized my pet peeve example is about the phone. Obviously, I have a lot of angst about the phone. Maybe it comes from my teenage years, when my friends and I had to wait for HIM to call.

I digress. Big surprise.

So I have a question. No sarcasm. I want an honest answer. Do you think these things are ill mannered? I will never like them, but I can accept that the rest of the world is not obligated to refrain from visiting my pet peeves on me.

• Laying the cell phone beside one's plate for anything other than keeping up with the time.
• Texting in polite company. By polite company, I mean at the table and in a conversation area.
• Making people look at pictures, Pintrest, and videos.
• Having anything more than a very short phone conversation in a car with other people.
• Sitting with another person in polite company joined in a little private tandem technology linked world.
• Eyes constantly on tablet in polite company. Some might say this is no different from flipping through a magazine, which I think is sometimes okay and sometime not, depending on the formality of the situation.

So tell me what you think. I need an attitude adjustment.

Recipe Friday: Hurry Home Bacon Dip

Precious Angel, bottom right. He is a cheerleader these days.

Back along time ago, when I was newly married and Precious Angel's daddy was a freshman at Georgia Tech, I would make him banana pudding when he came home for the weekend.

I am all set to make one of Precious Angel's favorite things--if only he were coming home. That is not going to happen for a while because there is a football game every weekend. If you have been with us long here under the Tulip Tree, you will know that I  have spent the last seven or eight falls watching P.A. play football. Well, that is over for me--and him. What is keeping him from me is that he has embarked on a career as a cheerleader. College football just was not going to work out for him and he knew it. "I've got to have me a sport, Miss Jean," he said not long before he left. He plays tennis, but  that is a casual endeavor and he wanted something with  disciplined scheduled practices. Not sure how he hit on cheerleading but  he had learned when preforming in high school musical productions that he could pick a girl up over is head with one hand. So here we are. He can do a cartwheel these days and a back-flip. It makes me nervous--far more nervous that football ever did. I am going to make the journey to see him cheer soon. And if he ever makes it home I am going to make this dip for him.

Hurry Home  Bacon Dip

2 pkg. (8 oz.) cream cheese, softened

1 c. mayonnaise
1 fresh lemon, squeezed
1 med. onion, chopped
1 lb. bacon, cooked & crumbled
Crushed pecans

Blend all ingredients together. Pour into lightly greased baking dish. Cover with pecans. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. Serve hot with crackers.

I Love Lushy Lulu? Ricardo Does....

On Thursday nights around these parts, there’s a group of women that meet at the local Mexican Cantina.  Yep.  It’s the Margarita Mamas, of which I am a part.  We’re an unlikely collection of mothers, friends.  We found each other by way of children and organizations.  We seem to keep each other by way of laughter and tequila.  Of course, Ricardo will have it no other way as this means he gets the last laugh, not to mention the tips galore!  And oh how this man can schmooze!  And I don’t think he understands much English so it’s all a fantasy anyway…which falls right into my romance loving soul…the fantasy that is, not Ricardo.  Ha!  He reminds me of Ricky, come to think of it.  Ricky Ricardo…?  Oh…okay...I could be a Lucy-type, maybe…?  I certainly get myself into enough trouble.  RWA 2012, Exhibit One.  

Which brings us to the nicknames.  I am of course, Lushy Lulu.  Why?  Is it the Lucy tie-in?  Perhaps my Evanovichian sense of humor gone south?  I’m not sure.  Southern Belle threw it out there and it stuck.  It’s probably the margaritas.  Sigh.   Southern Belle is obviously so southern that there could be no other name for her.  I mean, geeze!  The woman won’t even pump her own gas!  Yet she can probably cook a batch of cookies and be ready for cocktails in five without batting an eye.  I have no doubt she has a hoop-skirt hidden deep inside her closets somewhere.  Then there’s Twinkle Toes.  She likes to dance, of course.  No.  You don’t seem to understand.  This woman will dance anywhere, anyhow, anyway.  Especially if there are silver thigh high boots involved.  (And no this does NOT mean you can wear them tonight, Twinkle Toes!)  I once saw her dance with a door jamb.  Seriously!  I’m not lying.  And it was the first time I ever met her.  She kinda scared me and put me in awe all at the same time!   And last, there’s Damn Yankee who, try as she might, will never quite get the fact that y’all has a silent "W" in it, and we don’t blurt out the “F” word in public where people can actually hear us!  Okay.  Well Southern Belle doesn’t, anyway.   The rest of us just don’t give a rat’s ass.  

So what do you do with a group of women like this?  Well, I had to ask myself.  Because frankly, I never had a group of girlfriends like this before.  They’re unique and beautiful and wacky and I love each and every one of them dearly.  But I’m gonna warn ya…you pull out a trivia game and these women will turn into vicious competitors that will take down your most innocent high school boys and be proud to do so in public.  Why yes.  We did do that.  The boys called themselves the Tigers.  And we got free margaritas for doing it, too.  Thankfully, we had the foresight to name ourselves the Margarita Mamas and not the Margarita Cougars!  :D  

Do you have any crazy friends like this that fit no predefined mold in your life?  What’s your favorite margarita flavor?  Do you pump your own gas? How do youz guyz feel about silver thigh high boots?